


Coffee Break

by A_simple_lee



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Fluff, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Tickling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-09 17:39:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27580133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_simple_lee/pseuds/A_simple_lee
Summary: A quiet day in the BAU doesn’t always mean a peaceful one, especially when Reid’s around.
Relationships: Derek Morgan & Reader, Spencer Reid & Reader, Spencer Reid & You
Kudos: 28





	1. Chapter 1

It’s almost midday. You can finish documenting this case before then, you’re sure of it, but there are a couple of pages missing from the paperwork. You glance across the office; Reid will have spares, probably - he’s spinning back and forth in his chair, and he looks a little absorbed with the book he’s reading. Hopefully he won’t mind if you ask.

You stride over to his desk, holding the incomplete file, and poke his shoulder; but he swings in the opposite direction at the last second, so you end up missing and nudging his collarbone instead. The detective immediately lets out a small squeak, shoulder hunching up to protect his neck. 

“Hey-oh. Sorry, sorry, Spencer.”

He gives you a halfhearted glare. “You know I’m ticklish.”

“Well, yes, but it was an accident. Promise.”

“Alright. What do you need?”

Lunch break rolls around, and you manage to get everything done in time, texting the field team to inform them of your progress. Morgan leaves to buy his lunch, offering to pick you up something on the way, and you’re left alone with Reid. 

You spend a couple of minutes absorbed in your computer, going through your emails, but there’s nothing new. Just as you’re settling into the quiet that comes with a less crowded office, someone pokes your side, and you do a terrible job of concealing your flinch away from them; it’s Reid. He’s stood by your desk, holding a mug of coffee. You try to school your expression from a surprised grin into a faux-irritated smirk. 

“Do you mind?”

“Sorry.” He smiles, not at all sorry. “I was going to ask if you wanted a coffee.”

“Ah-you-what?” The words don’t come out quite right. You’re still trying to pick yourself up after having your concentration broken. 

“Coffee?”

“I’m alright, thanks,” You pause, observing Spencer’s face for a second. “… _That_ wasn’t an accident, was it?”

Spencer frowns. “It was, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Seems you’ve got the wrong end of the stick. “Oh. Oh that’s fine, sorry, yeah, it’s okay.”

“What do you mean accident-?”

“Don’t worry, it’s nothing, I misunderstood.” _Uh oh._ You move to leave your desk, stepping around Reid and panicking when you realise you have no excuse to be leaving the table. In your haste, you pick up an empty mug and hope that moving it to the squad of other empty mugs on the opposite end of the desk doesn’t look like a poorly disguised escape attempt.

“Were you talking about earlier? Did you think I was trying to… _oh._ Are you ticklish?”

“…The BAU doesn’t need another target for that. They’ve already got you.”

“So you are?”

Sirens are blaring in your head. Your mind rushes through the potential ways the conversation could go. If you say no, there’s a chance he’ll drop the subject. But do you want that to happen? Saying yes would be willingly backing yourself into a corner. “Uh.”

That moment of hesitation is the only excuse Reid needs to reach out and tweak your side. It earns him a jolt and a poorly concealed yelp. He grins. “that’ll be a yes, then.”

“Spencer…” Your hands raise up, palms outwards, to keep distance between the two of you.

Before you can start backing away, Spencer’s there, stepping behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist in a hug, hands swiftly latching onto your sides and squeezing. You get about two words into a strangled protest before your nervous system catches up with him, and the rest of the sentence dissolves into laughter.

“You know, for someone with mandatory self defence training, that was a pretty terrible attempt to stop me.” There’s a note of smugness in Reid’s voice that makes a blush start to spread up your neck. He darts his fingers up to your ribs, hooking his index fingers towards the back of your rib cage, thumbs planted more towards the front, and squeezes again, eliciting a squeal from you.

“Wait, wait-this isn't fair-” Your knees are getting weaker by the second, and despite your efforts to squirm out of Reid’s grip, you remain trapped.

“Sure it’s fair. If you’re referring to our physical abilities, I mean- you’ve got the same amount of training as I have, and the same experience. Now, I am taller than you, but that hardly affects the fairness of this specific situation. I’d say we’re pretty much on a level playing field here.” He pauses to zone in on a spot near one of your ribs that makes you snort. Your hands fly up from batting at his to cover your face. 

“Reid-” you start, voice bordering on a whine, “Please-”

“Hm. I don’t think you’ve finished a single sentence in the past five minutes.” 

You reluctantly bring your hands away from your face to speak, trying your utmost not to let giggles interrupt the words. “So…so what?” 

“So, you’re getting increasingly embarrassed. Blushing, stammering, increased pauses between words, use of fillers like 'uh' or 'uhm.'" He spiders over your stomach and you almost fall backwards into him.

“Oh, you are _not_ profiling me.”

“Eh, it’s light psychoanalysis at most,” Reid grins, going right back to where he left off. “You hardly did anything to stop me coming behind you, so either I got lucky, or...you weren’t trying to get away. You could push my hands away if you wanted to, and you haven't...and now that I think about it, you ...haven’t once told me to stop. That leads me to believe you don’t actually want me to. Simply put: you like being tickled.”

“Spencer!” He’s slowed down a little bit, but your thoughts are still too much of a mess to form a proper sentence, and his occasional pinches to specific spots on your sides have you laughing intermittently. 

“It makes sense the more you consider it. Tickling is frequently seen as a way of bonding, and can be viewed as a form of physical affection. Both physical affection and laughter supply a decent amount of endorphins to the brain, so a need for some sort of combination of the two doesn’t seem too far fetched, especially for individuals who are touch-starved. That, and it’s…actually kind of cute.”

“Don’t-” You break off when you realise your voice is definitely a little whiney this time. 

“Don’t what?” He drills his thumbs into a spot near your hip and you break out into hysterics.

“You’re embarrassing me.”

He has the nerve to tut. “I know. But it’s not very difficult.”

“Oi!”

“You’re not exactly subtle about it. For example, you get visibly embarrassed when I say the word “tickle”, and earlier, you covered your face for a solid thirty seconds after snorting. You’re embarrassed about your own reactions.”

“I did not snort!” It’s ridiculous to deny, but Reid’s too quick, and you’re too flustered, so you just start clutching at straws.

“Sure you did,” His hands reenact their earlier movements, and much to your dismay, you hear yourself snort again. “Just like that.”

“Okay-okay, point taken!” You feel him repeat the motion again, and do your best not to give him the specific reaction he’s looking for, instead falling into silent laughter. “Spehencer!”

He takes that as a signal to back off, finally letting you go from his hug and patting you on the shoulder. You lean back against a nearby desk, and take a second to catch your breath.

“That was unnecessary.”

“Not unwanted.” Spencer counters, looking smug as anything. 

“I never said you were right.”

“You never said I was wrong.”

You let out a huff. “Oh, just…Forget it, c’mon.”

He sighs dramatically, giving a slight shake of his head. “Eidetic memory, sorry. Can’t.”

“Rude.” You pick up a file from the desk and try to swat at him with it, but he’s already bounding away towards his own workspace. Just as you give up trying to hit him with it, Morgan walks back in through the door. 

“Hello.” He nudges the door shut with his foot and quirks an eyebrow at you brandishing a file in the middle of the office.

“Oh, hey. Get your lunch alright?” Spencer doesn’t look up from his coffee. It’s probably cold.

Derek holds up a paper bag and puts it on his desk, glancing at you as he takes out a smoothie, then two boxes of food. "You look hot, you alright? Want me to open a window?” 

“Do I? I’m…fine,” You reply, realising your blush probably hasn’t quite faded yet. “Don’t worry, that’s. It’s fine.” 

“Sure?”

“Yep.” You get up to grab your coffee mug from earlier. Derek tilts his head slightly.

“Hang on, no…you’re embarrassed.”

“Morgan.”

“What happened?”

“Absolutely not, Derek. No.”

You hear Spencer give an amused snort from across the room, and toss a crumpled-up piece of paper in his direction. It completely misses him. “Shush.”

Reid grins into his cold coffee. “Didn’t say anything.”

“Good. Don’t.”

“Oh?” Morgan’s glancing between the two of you.

“Shush. Both of you. I need lunch.” You slide some cash in Derek’s direction to repay him.

Morgan just turns around in his chair with a shrug. “Alright, alright. Suit yourself.”

You sigh, and finally go to make your coffee. What a morning.


	2. Inevitable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continuation of chapter 1. Keeping anything hidden from Moran is damn near impossible. Spencer further complicates things, as per usual.

You should have remembered this sooner, really, but Spencer Reid is a _menace._

The workspace had fallen quiet for a while after lunch, with Derek starting occasional banter every half hour. Everything had seemed fine, but you couldn’t help but feel a little on edge after the situation with Spencer. Part of you hoped he’d moved on from the ordeal. Part of you didn’t. You couldn’t tell which side you wanted to let win. Despite your best efforts, you’d caught yourself warily glancing at him. He hadn’t noticed.

At least, you didn’t _think_ he had.

Just as you pause to take a sip of water, your gaze drifts towards him for the umpteenth time - & then you see it. That monster has the audacity to subtly wiggle his fingers at you. _Shit._

He catches your eye - he’s _grinning_ \- and you try to wipe the surprise off of your face, opting to stealthily put your middle finger up in a way that won’t alert Morgan to your silent conversation. Reid pulls an offended face, then does something that makes you want to hide your face against your desk; he raises his eyebrows, as if daring you to do it again, and repeats his earlier movement. You can’t help it; you physically recoil, shifting to the far side of your chair and scooting towards the other end of your desk a tiny bit. That sets Reid off; he gives a quiet huff of a laugh, and you want nothing more than to give him a few choice words about how much of an inconvenience he’s being. 

You really, really hope Derek’s not aware of what’s happening; and by some miracle, it seems he isn’t; just as you’re scowling at Spencer for laughing, Derek conveniently pops out of the room, carrying a few files that must be for Garcia. It means you can openly glare at Reid. He watches Derek - waits until he’s gone from the other side of the glass exit door - before openly smiling at you.

“Spencer. You’re despicable, you know that?”

“Of course.”

“You’re making it very difficult for Derek not to notice.”

“I haven’t said anything,” Spencer shrugs.

“Sure you haven’t.”

“I haven’t!” His voice pitches a tiny bit higher with false indignation.

“This is incredibly unfair.”

“How so?”

“Because! ..You’re being a nuisance, Spencer.” 

“Am I?”

“Yes?”

“Sounds to me more like I’m just doing a very good job at embarrassing you.”

“Uh- Look, Derek’s gonna come back soon, and he’d never let me live it down if he found out, and-just-you’re making it very difficult to get things done.”

“You don’t want him to know?”

“…I don’t know. Maybe? Sort of? I don’t know how he’d react.”

“What, you don’t think he’d wanna tickle you?”

“Uh-Well-When you say it like that, I can’t believe we’re having this conversation-”

“You did start it.”

“…Sort of.”

“So what are you concerned about?”

“It’s embarrassing. It’s really weird. He might not understand. He might take it the wrong way. I wasn’t planning on telling anyone. People don’t generally take it too well. There’s a fine line between playful teasing and bullying. They often cross it.”

“You say that like you’ve experienced it before.”

You shrug.

“For the record,” Spencer leans back a little in his chair. “You work with psychologists. If anyone’s likely to understand it, it’s us.”

“…And you do?”

“I said earlier, it’s fairly logical. Research suggests tickling’s primarily evolved as a bonding mechanism; if you feel like you lack closeness, or have low endorphins, or…if you’re touch-starved, the positive association could happen. If it makes you happy, it makes sense.”

You pray that whatever blush is rushing to your face isn’t obvious. It probably is.

“Oh.”

“You could tell Derek, if you wanted. I don’t think he’d take it weird.”

You pause. He frowns.

“You don’t have to, obviously, and I wouldn’t tell him if you didn’t want me to.”

“ _I wouldn’t mind if you did._ ” It comes out quieter than you’d expected.

“Hm?”

“I…wouldn’t mind if you did. Tell him, that is.”

“Oh?”

“Easier than telling him myself.”

“I see.”

There’s a brief silence. Spencer clears his throat.

“Can I ask you a question?”

You’re about to answer ‘yes’ when you hear the door swing open. Derek’s back. He glances between you and Spencer for a second; you make an effort to look busy with something, paying close attention to where Derek’s footsteps sound like they’re heading. He sits back down at his desk.

Then someone taps you on the shoulder from behind, and you almost jump out of your skin.

“-Spencer! Uh-What’s up?” You try to pretend you haven’t just let out a yelp.

“You alright? Jumpy much?”

“Yes, yea, no, fine. Uh, I just have some very unprofessional coworkers, is all.”

“Really? Who?”

“Namely you.”

“Oh. I haven’t done anything.”

You roll your eyes. “No, but- again. It’s distracting.”

“You can go home. It’s six.”

“But I want to finish this-”

“You’re not tired?”

“I am, but I want to-” You pause to yawn. “Get this out of the way.”

“It’ll still be there tomorrow.”

“True.”

“Get some rest.”

“No.”

“Get. Some. Rest.” Three pokes to your sides.

“Spencer!” You try to keep your voice low, but he squeezes your side again, and a giggle slips out. You clamp your hand over your mouth. “Don’t!”

Spencer’s hand brushes your neck; you hunch up, sinking down and dissolving into giggles when he follows you, fingers skittering over your collarbone. “no-nonono-”

“Oh? You’re ticklish?” Derek’s voice sounds too close for him to be standing by his desk. Spencer stops for a second; you sit up, and see Morgan’s made his way over with a file that he’s put on your desk.

“Um…no?”

Derek immediately takes that as an invitation to dart a hand towards your side; you try to avoid him, but you’re cornered, and dissolve into laughter again when he manages to squeeze below your ribs a few times.

“Ah- Derek!” Suddenly he’s latched onto both of your sides, and you lean forwards in your chair to rest against your desk, unable to do much else but swat weakly at his arms.

“Oh, this is too good. You’re worse than Spence.”

“No!” You manage to giggle out, letting out an embarrassing yelp when he moves his hands to your ribs.

“That’s adorable,” Morgan’s voice carries a grin that makes you want to bury your face in your hands. 

“Right?” Spencer chimes in, giving your side a quick poke. “You know, they like this.”

“Oh?”

“Watch: they’re not stopping you.”

“shut up!-” Your ability to hold back your laughter is rapidly deteriorating; this does _not_ look good.

“What, was I wrong?” 

You’re about to come back with some snarky retort for Spencer, but Derek’s thumbs hook behind your sides, and you’re lost to another bout of hysterics. “Derek-DEREK!”

“Yea?”

“Please-I can’t-” The words fail you.

“Hm?”

“It-I-”

“I think the phrase you’re looking for is ‘it tickles’.” You are going to murder Spencer - just as soon as you stop laughing too hard to form a sentence. 

“Spencer!” You whine, finally catching your breath when Derek backs off. It takes a moment for the residual giggles to fade. As soon as you get your breath back, you glare at Reid.

“You’re both horrible. You especially.”

“No, you love it.” He grins, skittering his fingers across the back of your neck before you can stop him.

“Ah-well.”

“Wait, he wasn’t kidding?” Derek shifts to meet your gaze, which you immediately avoid.

“Uh.”

“You like being tickled?”

“No comment.”

“That’s a yes, isn’t it?” He sounds so smug. This is unfair.

“I….don’t hate it. You don’t need to hold onto that at all, though-”

“Oh. No, no, I’m going to.” He gives your side a poke.

You sigh. “Of _course_ you are.”

“I don't hear any complaints,” He grins, moving to pick up his file.

Spencer Reid is a menace, and so’s Derek Morgan. That’s not always a terrible thing to be.


End file.
